


So Why Not Sleep Forever?

by Turchinorain



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7586824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turchinorain/pseuds/Turchinorain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I thought when I changed myself, my life would get better. It did. But it was someone else's happy life. And I was tired of pretending to be her. The only time I could escape was when I slept. So why not sleep forever? Two-Shot</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

It’s funny, even when you think you have everything you wanted, you can still feel like nothing. The things that you think will make you happy can do nothing to assuage the darkness that surrounds you. Or maybe the darkness already lies inside the heart. Maybe the best we can do is push the darkness as far down as possible and do our best to ignore it. It’s a miserable thought but one that unfortunately seems to hold true.

Was I ever really happy? Truly, truly happy? Sure I’ve found some joy in my life. I’ve had a few good days here and there. But overall my existence was miserable. Parents who barely gave me the time of day, a temper that made people give me a wide berth, and looks that would have been better on a Ukrainian man than a young girl. There were very few bright spots in this bleak life of mine though. I fell in love with a boy who showed me true kindness, but once again that pesky temper of mine only pushed him away. I had a best friend who was there for me through thick or thin, but even then sometimes I wondered if she was only there out of pity.

 See? The darkness is always present somewhere in my life. It became exhausting. I fought it, I fought people, I fought myself but it was always there. And since the world around me didn’t seem to change, I changed instead.

My unibrow was trimmed, I took weight gainers to give me curves and exercised to keep my stomach flat. I got a job and used the money to buy the clothes that society deemed appropriate for me. I even tampered down the fiery personality that scalded so many people around me. I was no longer me, but everything seemed to improve. People actually wanted to be around me. My friends no longer seemed to be there out of pity or obligation. Even my parents began to pay attention to me, actually praised me for making editor of the school paper. And, most incredible of all, the boy who I thought was unobtainable, was suddenly became close to me. He held no romantic interest for me, not that I ever expected he ever would, but we became close friends.

But even as everything in my life seemed to come together, a deep heavy sadness began to surround me. I tried fighting it. I filled my days with softball, writing, dancing, and socializing. The darkness only grew heavier. I could feel myself growing angry and frustrated, but no one could be around the angry, frustrated me. So I filled my life with even more things to keep the sadness at bay. The exhaustion began to take its toll on my very soul. No one seemed to notice. Or if they did, they chalked it up to my busy schedule.

I could feel myself beginning to slip. Cracks started forming, marring my polished veneer. Sleep became my only escape. I could only be myself when I slept. I started sleeping earlier and longer. I had to quit the softball team so I could increase my sleep time from eight hours a day to ten hours a day. I cut down my social life so I could increase that to nearly twelve hours. But then when the dreams stopped, my sleeping schedule didn’t change. I no longer dreamed but I was still tired from dealing with my miserable reality.

And then the voice mail came.

I had been out with the girls all night and by the time I got home I was drained. Beyond drained. There was nothing left of me after a day of primping and grooming myself until I was unrecognizable, followed by putting on a performance of someone who was happy and put together. I plugged my long dead phone into the charger and cringed when it came to life and beeped, notifying me of a new voicemail. I almost ignored it, but I played it anyway.

“Um hey, Helga,” Arnold’s voice played over my phone, sounding nervous, “it, Arnold. I um, was hoping that I would catch you but I guess I didn’t. I uh, wanted to talk to you about… something. It’s… you’ve changed, and… I noticed. And I um, was wondering if I could talk to you? It’s important. So call be back okay? Um… bye.”

My phone then beeped and what was left of my heart shattered. He may have called my phone and said my name, but he wanted to talk to a completely different person. He said that he noticed that I changed. It was that change that made it possible for him to even be friends with me. It was the same with everyone else. My parents now accepted me because I was someone else. My so called friends were only that because I was easier to be around. And Arnold only wanted to talk to me because of the role I was playing. But I was tired of playing that role. I created the perfect life, but it was someone else’s life. I deleted the voicemail making a note to call him back in the morning and just went to bed.

But when the morning came, the sadness had not lifted. It pressed down on me, the darkness that I tried so hard to bury in my heart had encased me, engulfed me entirely. I was just too tired to play this role anymore, to live someone else’s life while I withered away into nothingness.

So here I sit, writing the last words in my journal, the only place I still existed. Next to me is a half full bottle of my dad’s old pain medication from an injury he had years ago. Beside that is a half full bottle of vodka that my mom thought she hid when she went sober. Both of them only got better when I became someone else. Everyone was happier when I became someone else.

The pills filled my hand when I upend the bottle into my hand and then shove them into my mouth. I unscrew the cap to the vodka and wash the pills down with the burning liquid. I kept drinking it to make sure it had its full effect. I only stopped when I feel the room start to spin. I rise to my feet slowly and stumble to the bed. My head hits the pillow and I sigh, feeling content. Now I could finally sleep, and be truly happy as I am.


	2. Why didn't you tell me you were hurting

 

At first, I couldn’t understand it. The words didn’t connect in my mind.

Helga Pataki tried to commit suicide.

It couldn’t be possible. Not Helga. Not the fire that shone bright and fierce since I was a toddler. Not the girl who captured me and held me for years. Not the girl who brought out the worst in me, drove me insane, and yet somehow always made me want to be around her.

But wait, this wasn’t the same Helga. I noticed it a while ago. At first, when you began smiling more and opening up more, I was excited. Inexplicably, you became nicer and friendlier. That friendliness even extended to me, the guy I thought you hated the most. At first I was even more excited. Finally, now was my chance to get to know the real Helga. The Helga that I knew was hiding behind her hard and angry exterior. As we began to spend time together though, I realized that I was still far from knowing the Helga that I wanted to know.

Even as I stare at you, a breathing tube down your throat and an IV in your arm, I realize that I never truly knew Helga. The hair spread over the pillow was the same shade of yellow, but the usual healthy glow to your skin was gone. And your eyes, usually so intense and blue, were closed now. But they haven’t been intense for a while now have they? I noticed that first I think. Whether you were happy, angry, annoyed, amused or down right enraged your eyes would have a certain spark to them. And when you were sad or deep in thought your eyes became bottomless pools of emotion. But when you changed, when I thought you were becoming happier, your eyes dimmed. Even when you laughed around me or our friends, your eyes were dim.

I wanted to ask you why, but I thought you just needed space. I thought that in time you would feel comfortable enough to open up to me for real. But you never did. Even when you smiled and we went with the others to the movies, or talked to me about your day, you never really opened up to me. Everyone seemed to be fooled by your act. Gerald, Lila, even your parents seemed to think everything was okay. Only Phoebe seemed to realize that something was amiss. She was worried about you, you know. She even goes as far as to blame herself.

But I was the one who should have seen. Who should have known how far you were drowning. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.

I wanted so much to save you, but I didn’t realize how far and fast you were falling. I tried so hard to be there for you, but I was too afraid to push you. I thought if I push you too hard, you would push me away completely.

I broke up with Jennifer for you, did you know that? I broke up with her and Amanda to make sure that you knew that you were the most important person in my life. That I was available to you in a way that I was available to no one else. Gerald teased me and said that I was in love with you. He was right and wrong. I was in love with Helga, but you hadn’t been Helga for a long time.

But I still held out hope. Cracks began forming in the shell you locked yourself in. I began to see it wear down on you. Your eyes became more blue than gray, and you began sleeping more. And there were times when you thought no one was looking, when you thought I wasn’t looking, that your real self would resurface. Irritation would spark behind your empty eyes. Restraint tightened your empty, vapid smile. I thought that any minute now, the real Helga that I love would burst through and shatter this false version of yourself that you created.

So I waited. And waited. But you didn’t come back. You quit softball and began sleeping more instead. And the spark that was your true self, the fire the could out burn the sun itself, was dimmed again. I tried. I called you but you didn’t answer. I wanted to rescue you, bring you back to me. But I was too late.

            It’s been months now, I sit here and hold your hand every day. I’m waiting for your fire to come back and burn though this hollow shell that lies sleeping in this hospital bed. Everyone misses you. The real you. That’s who they’re praying will come back. The Helga that beamed Harold with the softball when he claimed girls could never be good at sports. The Helga who smashed Miriam’s blenders after she had to be admitted to the hospital. The Helga who tormented me for years, made me fall in love with her, but then disappeared, hidden within a shell.

            “Please come back to me, Helga.” I whisper softly stroking your hand, “Please, so I… so I can tell you in person that I love you. So I can tell you in person that I miss you. Everyone misses you. So please, please come back Helga. Come back to me.”

            Your hand remained still in mine like it had for months. Your breathing remained shallow and even. I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against yours. The brain monitor continued its monotone, regular beeping.

            “I love you Helga,” I whispered one more time.

My lips then moved on their own accord and kissed your forehead. The monitor gave an irregular beep, then another. But I didn’t move away. The nursed had warned me the first time it happened that random brain waves didn’t mean anything. So I let my eyes remained closed for a moment longer, enjoying the feel of your skin against my lips, hoping that someway, somehow, you could feel it wherever you were.

I pulled away slowly and when I opened my eyes, I found myself staring into your crystal blue ones.

           


End file.
